All Halls Lead to the Band Room
by bonnysammy
Summary: What's worse than having a marching band director who has it in for her?  Spending everyday in his class while the boy of her dreams sits on her periphery, seemingly oblivious? When her teacher tells her to get lessons from the boy, how will she cope?


As always, thank you for reading. I saw a request from a Twitter friend for Marching Bandward. This is what came of that.

G, should you read this, I hope it doesn't disappoint. Band is more a setting than an actual character.

All, enjoy.

Thank you to zonagirl, Lisa, jfka06 and CloudieDay for looking this over. You are great.

I decided to push myself a little, so this is my second attempt at third person.

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All Halls Lead to the Band Room

A teenage girl hurried down the desolate hall leading to the choir and band rooms. The uneven cadence of her footfalls echoed along the austere cinderblock walls and linoleum tiles as she braved the walk down the sloped floor, only stumbling twice in her tizzy. She was late, as usual, her long brown hair billowing behind her as she rushed, trying futilely to make up for lost time—unfortunately, Doc Brown's DeLorean was unavailable as was its accompanying flux capacitor. Plus, time travel was the stuff of Hollywood fiction. She lamented this fact. If only it were possible, maybe then she wouldn't have to take the walk of shame across the room in front of every one of her classmates… including him, _especially_ him. Even though she had the excuse slip from the principal's office, she knew she'd still be the focus of all the students' attentions as she hastened across the room.

All too soon, and later than she hoped, she arrived at the double doors hiding the instruments and members of the marching band. The muted sounds of the theme from the Indiana Jones movies told her just how tardy she was; she'd even missed warming up. Her heart pounded in her ears, overtaking the strong brass of the piece as she reached for the knob. After taking a deep breath, intended to calm her racing pulse but not having such an effect, she turned the handle and pushed on the door.

Though she only left an opening small enough to slip in, the music stopped abruptly, all eyes on her as she entered. The band director, Mr. F. Otter, scowled as she walked to him, a tiny slip of paper in her trembling hands.

Mr. Otter was a wizened man, a weak shadow of his former self, the golden boy of Forks. During his glory days, he'd been the star quarterback, but after an unfortunate sack and the associated injuries, his aspirations of a lucrative football career went up in smoke, as had his scholarships and hopes of attending a well-ranked school. Instead of his first choice, he begrudgingly moved forward with a music education. He'd always loved music and hoped to be able to join a band during and after his college years. Of course, Forks Marching Band was _not_ what he had hoped for when he returned to his hometown, but he took what job he could get, knowing he'd find something better in the future.

He didn't.

In fact, he'd met and married a fellow teacher, expecting to fall into the typical routine of children and work. Maybe his sons would follow in his footsteps, without the injuries. That never happened. After losing two pregnancies early on, his wife left him, claiming irreconcilable differences. Shortly following the divorce, she rode to Vegas on the back of her future husband's motorcycle.

So here he sat in the small run-down music room of an even more run-down high school, catering to the whims and desires of a jaded school board—it seemed every year was a fight for his job—and dealing with the soap opera tendencies of the teenage population. He was an ornery, belligerent man, aged far beyond his actual years. Bitterness oozed from every pore, especially for females with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. Eyes he'd once hoped his non-existent son would have had. He regarded the approaching girl with particular disdain; even her mousy demeanor was reminiscent of _her._

Mr. Otter could have sworn he heard a low rumble from his left. He ignored the sound as none of his students seemed to notice, only chancing a quick glance and catching the eyes of one of his star pupils. The boy played brilliantly. His solos would have been the perfect tactic to help them garner the title Mr. Otter so desperately coveted. It was a shame the boy wasn't interested in the limelight.

The sound of the shuffling feet pulled the teacher's attention once more to the child coming toward him.

The girl didn't look at any of the students as she made her way to Mr. Otter and his callous glares and cruel words. Her eyes never strayed from her chosen path, too frightened she'd catch the eye of the bronze-haired boy seated among the high brass. She could almost feel the intensity of his stare. Then again, she always could. His gaze never seemed to stray from her whenever she was around. In some ways, she found it creepy, but mostly she found it exciting, even though she knew she shouldn't. He was dangerous, and she was one of the few who knew just how dangerous he could be. Though that didn't frighten her; he'd saved her life eight months prior, after all.

If he hadn't endangered his secret by displaying his inhuman strength and speed, she'd have been crushed between her rusty old truck and Tyler Crowley's van. It had been that incident, along with a few local stories that had led her to her conclusion about Edward and his family.

She pulled herself from her memories, wishing she could be that close to him again, staring into his golden eyes. "Th-the Principal needed to see me, sir," she practically whispered as she placed the paper on the podium before the teacher, whose mouth turned downward maliciously.

"Yes, well you need to sort out your priorities, Miss Swan," Mr. Otter spat. "What's more important to you? Band is _not_ a joke." He gestured broadly to the room. "The others appear to be able to show up on time _daily_. I suggest you learn how."

"Yes, sir." She nodded, her eyes closed and head bowed, submissive.

"Get your instrument and take your seat."

His rebuke was meant to have been scathing, but it set wheels in motion in her mind. She did need to get her priorities in order. Marching Band was not her future. She'd be damned if she was destined to live in a small town like Forks any longer than necessary. She wanted to live in a bustling metropolis in the Sun Belt, and she fully intended to make that dream come true. College was her first step in that direction.

She'd been called to the office during her last class. It seemed her school of choice had requested she apply to their honors program. She was amazed and elated. When her counselor, Mrs. Dougherty, had suggested she apply to the school, the girl had balked. There was no way a prestigious university like Dartmouth would ever consider her. She'd been proved wrong and outright shocked when the acceptance letter arrived a few weeks later.

As she had sat listening to her counselor preach about the rarity of this offer and the benefits associated with it, her mind wandered, running to her possible future. This seemed to be just what she needed. It was the opportunity to escape the small town, closed-minded life Forks presented. Sure, the school wasn't in a warm place, but with an education from such a school, she'd be able to go wherever she wanted after. What were four more years?

She decided to jump at the opportunity, which meant she would need to sit through a proctored test period, as well as write a paper on the subject matter outlined. The test would need to be done during school hours, and of course the only class she could afford to miss was band. That was sure to annoy her crabby teacher. He already hated her for some unknown reason. Perhaps it was the fact that she breathed.

Keeping her head trained on the ground, she quietly walked to the closet where the instruments were stored and then back to her chair. She sat in the melamine seat, placing the black case on her lap. After pulling the pieces of her clarinet out and putting them together, she realized that the reed she'd been using was split and chipped, not conducive for playing. She briefly cursed her luck, wondering why these things always happened at the most inopportune times.

She pulled the compartment on the inside of the case open to use her extra one, but when she looked it wasn't there. Eric had taken it the day before because his had been unusable. She was supposed to talk her father into getting another, but she'd forgotten, too preoccupied by the glimpse she'd gotten of _the boy_ as she'd left the parking lot. He'd unknowingly invaded all of her thoughts as she slogged through her homework, prepared the evening meal and got ready for bed. As a result, she forgot to tell her father and now was left without the means to play. A zero for the day was sure to lower her grade.

She looked for Eric, hoping he would make good on his promise to replace the reed, but he sat at the opposite end of the row. There was no way she could ask him to reciprocate her generosity. She nudged her neighbor and asked if she had a spare. Of course, Samantha didn't. The girl knew that there was no way she could ask any of her other classmates without earning unwanted attention.

"Miss Swan." Mr. Otter's nasal voice pierced the air and her heart. She'd been caught. "Is there a problem?"

"No, Mr. Otter," Bella said. "It's just that my reed chipped."

"Don't you have a spare? You're supposed to come prepared for class."

"Um, I did, but…" She cleared her throat. If she told the teacher that she'd given it to Eric the day before, Eric would then be in trouble. Being the conscientious person that she was, she knew she couldn't do that, so she floundered.

"I borrowed it yesterday," a decidedly high-pitched female voice announced, _clearly_ not Eric.

Bella looked a few chairs down, her mouth open in shock as she realized it was Alice Cullen who had spoken. That girl had never even looked her way, let alone spoken to her.

"I was supposed to replace it today." Alice rose gracefully from her chair and reached out, handing a pristine reed to Bella. "Thanks so much for helping me out." As she dropped the small object, she allowed her skin to brush against the skin of the other girl's hand.

Though she was embarrassed by her teacher's chastisement and should really just take the reed and sit down, Bella released her instrument and grasped Alice's hand. She'd expected the chill. She knew what Alice was… what all the Cullens were. That knowledge didn't deter or sway her fascination. It didn't change her feelings at all, though it should.

"Thank you," she said almost silently.

"Anytime. It's what friends are for." Alice smiled kindly, winked and sat back down.

Bella placed the reed in her mouth, sucking on it to break it in. It wouldn't sound perfect, but she hoped it would be acceptable.

"Y-yes, well… let's get back to practicing," Mr. Otter said. He'd always had a soft spot for the diminutive Cullen, and he wasn't bound to interrupt or reprimand _her_. "We have our first competition this weekend, and the phrasing needs particular work, especially for you _first_ clarinets."

Bella knew that he was singling her out. She also knew that she had been practicing and that it was as close to perfection as humanly possible. He was just picking on her.

The hour long class seemed to stretch into eternity, the minutes lasting far longer than a mere sixty seconds. The teacher droned on and on about embouchure and when to breathe, as well as tempo and harmony. He had Bella play several times by herself, berating her poor technique each time. Finally reprieve came in the form of a ringing bell.

"If we don't get it right tomorrow, class, we _will_ be marching up and down the football field on Thursday," the teacher warned. "See you all tomorrow." The ominous tone to his farewell was missed by none.

Bella once again walked over to her tiny classmate. "I don't know how I can thank you. He's been horrible to me lately." Her voice was barely audible but Alice would hear.

"He's just a cantankerous fool," Alice whispered back. "Don't worry about him. He has _no _direct bearing on your future. You'll see." Her cheeks lifted as she grinned.

"Miss Swan, please see me before you leave," the teacher called once the ringing had stopped. "Mr. Cullen, I'd appreciate it if you stayed, as well."

"Y-yes, sir." She wondered what torture he had for her now.

"Certainly," a smooth voice intoned from behind her. She used that to ground her, to calm her.

"Maybe he has more of a bearing than I originally thought," Alice said through laughter, her eyes sparkling at some unknown thought. "Well, I'd better go. My brother and sister will be waiting. I'll talk to you soon."

"Thanks again, Alice. I _really_ appreciate it. I'll get another one for you."

"There's no need."

"I took one. I should replace it."

"You don't need to repay me. Just promise me you'll be good to my brother."

Bella was confused. Be good to her brother in what way? She turned to Alice but the tiny girl was already across the room. "Bye."

As she watched Alice leave, she saw _him_ from the corner of her eye. Though his face wasn't visible, his shoulders had slumped and he was shaking his head. It was strange. She'd never seen him with anything but perfect posture. She wondered what had upset him, her heart aching to help in some way. But what could she do? She barely knew him, let alone what would comfort him. Instead of trying to contact the boy, she turned her attention to getting ready to leave.

Slowly, she took apart her instrument and placed it in the case, then trudged to the back of the room and gingerly placed the case on the shelf. She waited for all the students to leave her sanctuary before she ventured from the safety of the dark closet. It was bad enough _he _was going to be present in Mr. Otter's office for the bloodbath; any others might drive her over the edge.

When she reached the office attached to the band room, Mr. Otter was already talking to _Mr_. Cullen, his tone apologetic. "I hate to do this to you, but it's necessary. And being that you're the most musically inclined…"

Bella hovered in the doorway and cleared her throat.

"Ah, Miss Swan." The teacher looked away from the young man before him and to the door where Bella shrank back from his gaze. He knew his hatred was unwarranted, but he couldn't force himself to care. Again he heard that strange low growling sound, which promptly stopped just as quickly as it had before. "I've just been speaking to Mr. Cullen… I don't think you have been living up to your full potential. Mr. Cullen is versed—remarkable really—on quite a few instruments, and he's willing to tutor you."

Bella's face fell. _Willing_ to work with her? It sounded like a punishment, not a desire. She hated the fact that _he_ was being forced into this. Surely he had more important engagements than talking to _her_ about band—well, talking to her about anything, period.

"You're a talented individual, Miss Swan. I wouldn't have put you in first chair if that wasn't the case but you've been distracted and you need to concentrate more than you have been. Otherwise, your grade _will_ suffer."

"My grade?" Bella's large eyes widened even further. "Um, th-then I guess I need th-the tutoring."

Mr. Otter nodded. "I'll leave you two to discuss the arrangements. But I expect to hear a difference in your playing and I count on positive feedback from Mr. Cullen."

"I'm sure that won't be a problem," the younger man said, his voice cold.

"Yes, sir." Bella looked to the ground and slunk out of the doorway, not needing to withdraw much as she'd never really entered.

She heard the door close behind her, but didn't notice the sound of any footsteps. _He_ must have stayed behind with her teacher. She sighed and placed her hand on the door knob, ready to end her horrible day.

"Bella," a soft voice called out. "Please wait."

It was the first time he'd directly addressed her in months, and her heart leapt to her throat then picked up double time once it settled in its proper position. _He_ was paying attention to her.

"Okay," she said meekly, nodding but keeping her eyes on anything but him.

Silently, he entered her peripheral vision. "Look at me please."

She slowly turned to face him. "Thanks for doing this. I'm sure you have something better to do—"

"No," he interrupted. "There's nothing I'd rather do than spend time with you."

She snorted, not realizing the full weight of his words. "That's really nice, but—"

"But what? I said it. I mean it."

"Thanks again." She looked to the now closed office door. "So when do you want to start?" Her voice was falsely cheery and too loud for everyday conversation; clearly she was humoring the repugnant man sitting inside.

"We can start as soon as you'd like." He smiled, raising one side of the grin higher than the other. Bella's heart stopped. How could anyone be so perfect? She was sure it was part of the lure, the whole predator and prey thing, but she didn't care. "The sooner the better."

"Um… are you free today?" she asked too eagerly, though she'd tried to temper her voice. "I want to get this done as soon as possible." She leaned in conspiratorially and he withdrew minutely. Her heart sank. "I need to get _him_ off my back."

He looked away, drew a deep breath and moved in closer than she'd expected. "Bella, it's his problem that he's so nasty. It has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you."

She pulled away, shaking her head. "It's always the _other_ person's problem."

He grabbed her by the shoulders, making sure to moderate his grip. "He's a bitter man who hasn't had much happiness in his life. He lost his hopes for a football career, then he lost his hopes for a family. He feels he's a washed up has-been that never was."

She lifted her eyes to meet his. "Really?"

"Yes, really." His eyes exuded warmth and reassurance. "_You've_ done nothing wrong." Blame was clearly placed elsewhere.

A warmth spread through her as she stared at him. "Thanks again."

"Anytime," he replied, reminding her of his sister. He cleared his throat and pulled back. "We should exchange numbers so that we can schedule a time."

"Oh, yeah." She reached into her school bag and pulled out her homework notebook. After scrawling her phone number down, she handed the slip of paper to him. "This is mine. Let me know when you're available tonight."

He was already holding out a piece of a paper to her.

"What's this?" she asked stupidly.

"My number."

"Oh! I didn't think you'd want me to have—"

"Why would you think that?" he asked, completely confused. "I've never said that."

"No." She held out the word longer than necessary, hoping to prolong the time before her next statement. "But you've never been terribly friendly."

"Bella, I'm not good… to be friends with." Ah, so he was going to pull this, the old "it's not you; it's me."

"Sure." She sighed, her heart sinking, and turned to him. "I get it."

"No," he said. "I don't think you do. Being friends with me can only cause problems."

Suddenly she wondered if his secret controlled their conversation, possibly their every interaction. "Wait!" Her volume even shocked her. "Are you saying this because…" She didn't want to discuss this where anyone could hear.

"Because what?" He wasn't about to tell her. She'd surely run if she knew.

"Can we talk about this later?" she asked, hoping he would understand. "When we're alone?"

His face fell. Certainly, her last statement couldn't mean anything good if she refused to discuss it in public. He sighed, wondering what she was thinking. "That's fine. Do you want me to meet you at your house?" He wouldn't invite her into his home. That would be too much to ask a human, even one as comfortable with his family as Bella appeared to be.

"I guess so. Just call me before you leave."

"No problem." He placed the slip of paper she'd handed him in his pocket, rubbing his finger along the seam, wishing it was her cheek. "I'll probably be available around four. Does that sound all right?"

"Four?" She'd already made up her mind. Whatever time he offered, she'd be available. "Sounds good."

Bella rushed home after school ended, hoping to make both her house and herself presentable for the boy who would be joining her in little over an hour. She grabbed some of the empty cans Charlie had left the night before, unceremoniously dumping them in the recycle bin, and tried to organize the stray papers that littered the living room and kitchen. After shooting a quick glance at the living room, she knew that it was a lost cause. No amount of work she could do in an hour could make this place fit to be seen, not even days would help. She briefly wished for a bomb so she could raze the house and start over.

She'd never been to the Cullens' house before but from the way the kids dressed and the cars they drove, she knew they had to have money, lots of it. Plus, when you lived forever, you had to be able to save up some money. It wasn't like they spent the money on food.

Bella tried not to think about that. If Edward had been a normal boy, maybe she would have been able to use her culinary skills. Wasn't the saying that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach? That thought brought her a slight feeling of dread. She hoped not. She really didn't want to appeal to the boy in that way. Though she knew appealing to him in any other way was a pipe dream. Their circles were two spheres that didn't touch.

She ran upstairs to the bathroom, chiding herself for not having any makeup. She wished she could do something to play up some positive aspect. Unfortunately, the only thing not boring and common about her was her clear, almost translucent skin. But how could she use that to her advantage? Start talking about cleaning regimens? It's not like he'd need to know anyway. From what she'd learned, he wouldn't change at all… ever. Plus he'd already been around forever.

How would she ever be able to entertain him? How would she ever be able to talk to him? She sat on the edge of the bathtub, holding her head in her hands. How was she going to get through these next few hours without making an ass out of herself?

After a few minutes, the doorbell rang. She eyed the bathroom door warily, like _he_ stood on the opposite side of it, not one floor below. After a deep breath, she heaved herself up and walked out into the hall.

"Be right there," she called barely louder than her normal speaking voice. He'd hear.

When she reached the door, she breathed heavily again, trying to calm her rising pulse. Slowly, she opened the door. The sight there took her breath away. He was as beautiful as ever, hair disheveled, muscles visible through his thin beige sweater. She wasn't sure how she contained herself, wanting to jump on him and kiss him senseless, but she did.

"Hello, Bella," he said quietly, a slight smile on his lips.

"H-h-hi, Edward." She cleared her throat. "Thanks for doing this for me."

"It's my pleasure."

She realized that she was just standing there staring at him. "Um, do you want to come in?" She worried about how squeaky her voice sounded. Had he noticed?

"That would be nice." He smiled kindly, allowing her to move further into the house and then gesturing broadly to the hall. "Ladies first."

"I thought the living room would be best?" She hated the lack of confidence in her voice. This was her house; she should be the one to tell him what was going on, even if he was inordinately gorgeous.

"Sounds good." He stepped through the door, closing it behind him.

The two walked into the tiny living room. Edward was overwhelmed by the pictures he saw on the mantle. He wanted to get to know Bella, but he hadn't banked on actually seeing her progression from childhood to adolescence to young adulthood. She'd been a beautiful baby who had aged into a spectacular woman.

He knew she was the type of girl he would have wanted, had that been possible. But he wasn't good enough for her. He wasn't able to offer her anything, only steal everything, every possibility, away.

"The couch?" she asked.

"That's fine."

She sat, keeping a respectable distance, then swallowed audibly.

"So… you had some theories we were going to discuss."

"Um… yeah." She looked to her hands, unable to handle the emotions his eyes would show at her revelation. "Well… I know." Her voice was no more than a whisper. "You know…"

He felt like a lead weight had landed on his stomach. But he wasn't going to let her get away without saying exactly what she thought. "What do you know?"

"About you and your family." She cleared her throat. "I know what you are."

His breath caught. She had said what, not who, but what. "And _what_ do you think that is?"

She looked to him, trying to read his face but he was facing away. "Well, you know my dad has lots of friends over in La Push."

He nodded. "Yes." His voice gave no hint of the thoughts swirling in his head.

"Well, I'm friends with Billy Black's son, Jacob. Jake." She took a deep breath. "And he's told me some of their old stories."

Bella noticed him flinch.

"And, well, I've noticed… other things." She chuckled quietly, though it was completely out of place for the tense situation. "I can't believe no one else _has_. I mean, you're good but you're not _that_ good."

"Just say it," he finally said, his voice quiet and cold.

"Vampires," she whispered. "You're vampires."

He nodded slowly, then turned his agonized face to hers. "Are you afraid?"

She was confused. Why would she be afraid? She'd known about this for months, and though she'd only scratched the surface of just how dangerous he could be, he'd given her no reason for fear. "No."

"You should be." Something outside garnered his attention, his eyes focused somewhere beyond the tiny room in which they sat.

"I'm not."

He turned to her, not hiding his incredible speed, and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Don't you see? There's no one more dangerous to you than I am."

"I'm sorry, what?" She pulled back slightly in an attempt to bring his face into focus. "How are you any more dangerous than the rest of your family? Besides, if you had wanted to…" She swallowed loudly. "If you wanted to kill me, you've had plenty of opportunities."

"Some things are worse than death," Edward said, and shook his head, still holding onto her shoulders. After a few seconds, he sighed and finally spoke again. "I told you we shouldn't be friends, Bella. It's not safe. But I can't stay away from you anymore. This has to be your decision."

"I don't want you to stay away. I want you near me."

He sighed again, turning to glance in her deep eyes. Would she ever learn self-preservation? No, that was probably impossible. Alice's vision of Bella's not-too-distant future had confirmed that she would never run away screaming… like she should. "I know."

"So where should we start?" she asked in a translucent subject change. "I don't want to talk about staying apart anymore."

Edward dropped his hands and inclined his head to her. "There really isn't much you're doing wrong. Otter just has it in for you."

She walked to the couch and sat down. "I know. I just wish I knew what I did. He's hated me from the beginning."

"You've done nothing. Like I said, he's angry because he feels he's a failure." He sat next to her, then ran a fingertip along her delicate cheek bone. "You remind him of that failure. Unfortunately, you're the latest scapegoat in a long line."

She leaned into him, reveling in the feel of his cold hand against her skin. She knew she should feel nervous; the chill was meant to be a warning, a sign that he was dangerous and unnatural, though she refused to believe the last part. She knew full well that he was dangerous.

The couple sat in the tiny living room discussing music. Bella learned quite a bit, even though Edward didn't think she needed to. Their time spent together passed quickly and enjoyably. Bella's fretting prior to Edward's arrival had proved pointless. They just seemed to fit together. A few hours after they began, a police cruiser turned onto the small street.

"Do you want your father to know I'm here?" Edward asked kindly, not wishing to intrude on her familial relationships.

"Um..." Bella hesitated. She loved the fact that he was there... in her house... with her, but her father was sure to flip when he found out that they were there alone.

"Another time, then," Edward said quietly. "Same time tomorrow? Same place?"

She nodded and grinned. "See you tomorrow."

In an instant, he was gone. She wondered if she should have been honest. What would her father have done? It wasn't like he would disapprove of anything that happened. In fact, he'd be proud that his daughter was bettering herself.

The front door opened, and a man with dark, curly hair walked into the house. He began removing his gun belt, placing it on the hall tree. "Bells?"

"In here, dad."

Her father's face appeared in the doorway. "What's for dinner?"

"Oh… um." She'd been too involved with her tutoring session, too busy watching _his_ lips caress the black mouth piece, to think about anything but him. "I forgot. I was studying and—"

"No problem," Charlie said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "We'll just go to the diner."

For once, Bella didn't argue. She just rose clumsily from the couch and grabbed her jacket, while making her way to the front door. "Ready."

The man smiled, making him look years younger. "Let's go."

Bella sat on the bus, alternating between looking out of the window and surreptitiously glancing in the direction of the bronze-haired boy. The past few afternoons had been productive and fun and had only served to strengthen her infatuation with him. She found that when she was near him, she couldn't keep her eyes from searching out his perfection, if only to catch a glimpse of him one more time.

Beyond that physical perfection was a wonderful person. She found herself falling further for his quick-witted humor, reveling in shared private jokes during class, and laughing more than she could remember when they were alone during their private tutor sessions. His kindness and overall gentle nature had taken her by surprise. And his touch brought the strangest sensations to her body, a calm that seeped through to her bones.

Above all, Edward seemed genuinely interested in learning all he could about Bella. He asked her question after question, full of mundane things like favorite flower and color, while also discovering tidbits about her childhood and life prior to Forks.

As they neared the location of the competition, Bella was brought back to reality when the students were informed to get dressed in their uniforms. She blushed profusely. In order for her not to overheat while performing, she usually just wore the wool top over her bra. Sitting in the back allowed her to dress covertly. But with Edward so close, that was an impossibility. Her nerves got the better of her. She didn't want him seeing all her imperfections.

Instead she opted to keep her t-shirt on. She was done getting dressed much quicker than the rest. It seemed the other girls had no problem stripping and exposing themselves to the beautiful boy sitting a few feet behind them.

Bella risked a quick look in his direction. Amazingly, he wasn't looking at the other girls, his eyes instead trained on the book he held. Suddenly, as if he could sense her gaze, his head popped up and his eyes met hers.

An enormous grin spread across his face, his eyes scrunching in the most adorable way.

He was so beautiful that she wondered how coherent thought was even possible around him. The curl of his lips, one side raised slightly higher than the other, warmed every part of her body. How could one… person be so spectacular? Bella expected to spontaneously combust at any moment.

She turned away, blushing, before she made her crush any more apparent. That's all this was and she knew it. It was impossible for infatuation to run so deep without it being a crush, wasn't it? Sure, over the last few days, she'd spent more hours with him than she'd ever dreamed possible. Before she'd gotten to actually know him, she'd been attracted. But now that she knew his likes, his dislikes, his charming quirks, she found herself further under his spell than she had been before.

Hastily, she completed the outfit but for her hat and plume. She looked around at the others, noting how the main color of their uniform—mustard yellow—suited no one, but Edward. She knew it washed her out, making her look even more like a band geek than she usually did.

The bus came to an abrupt stop.

"Everyone," the band parent in the front called. "Everyone, please listen."

Amazingly, the clamor quieted to a dull roar.

"Thank you. We're here now." She pointed to the large brick building just beyond the window. "And we will be performing in about half an hour. Mr. Otter wants everyone to get their instruments, then gather together outside the busses."

Bella heard groaning, before the students began to file down the narrow aisle of the bus. She stayed a little longer, piecing together her instrument. She was glad that those with smaller cases were allowed to bring them on the bus. It afforded her the opportunity to dawdle a little and she didn't have to fight the crowd that usually surrounded the tiny storage truck the school rented.

After a few minutes, Bella made her way out of the bus, stepping onto the blacktop of the rival school's parking lot. She walked toward the crowd gathered at the end of the bus. As she stood, a few kids murmured something about Pixy Stix. Yes, the kids needed more stimulants in their already overwhelmed and hormone ridden systems. It would only add more chaos to a time when control was needed.

She shook her head.

"What's wrong?" a soft, yet smooth voice whispered in her ear.

Bella whirled toward the sound of his voice. "Nothing much."

He laughed at her surprise, and her eyes grew distant. "Bella?"

"Yes?"

"We'd better follow the rest and get to where we're practicing." He nodded in the direction of a few students standing in formation.

"Okay," she uttered, wishing they could stay in their bubble forever. She didn't want to leave her fantasy world with him.

As they walked, his hand moved toward her, grabbing hers. She gasped at the coolness of his touch, but held on tight, hoping not to lose his contact. Though she knew she shouldn't want his touch, she could think of nothing more that would sate her.

She turned to look into his strange, yet somehow perfect, ocher eyes. When their gazes met, she was amazed at the affection she saw there. She wouldn't dare call it love but it was something not too far off. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her.

Edward stared into Bella's dark eyes. He marveled at how easily he lost himself in her gaze. How could it be that everything he wanted was wrapped up in this little human girl? He thought that her silence had been her draw, that as he came to know her, she'd become like the other selfish, hormone-driven children he was surrounded by daily. To his surprise, the exact opposite had happened. Bella was kind, selfless, intelligent, witty and mature beyond her years.

The only obstacle preventing him from making his feelings known was her humanity. How could he destroy someone so beautiful, so perfect in her imperfections? The beat of her heart, a perfect allegro by the metronome, had become a measure of peace, the only sound—other than her sweet voice—to pull him from the long misery in which he'd wallowed.

"Sections, everybody," Mr. Otter yelled. "Enough dillydallying. We have work to do."

The couple separated reluctantly, holding onto the other's hand as long as possible, as if the contact would delay the inevitable loneliness. Bella's spirits dropped the further away she walked. How was anything she wanted possible? Not only was he completely out of her league, he was a completely different species. Nothing could come of her desires. Once she met up with her group, Alice bounced over to her.

"Everything will be fine," she whispered quietly. "It will all turn out as it's supposed to."

Bella offered a watery smile in return. "Thanks, Alice. But I don't see how that's possible."

"You like him, right?" Was she baiting? Could he hear this conversation? If so, it might be the only time she'd have to make her feelings known.

The other kids were still milling around or tuning their instruments, so Bella knew she had ample time for this conversation.

"Yeah." She nodded slightly. "A lot. I- I think… I—" love him. She couldn't bring herself to say those words.

Alice beamed. "Good. Then everything will work out. Trust me."

"I won't get my hopes up."

Alice wrapped a cold, hard arm around Bella's shoulder. Bella fought the shiver. Even through her top and wool jacket, she could feel the chill of Alice's skin.

"Don't bet against me," Alice said, as if that was the answer to everything. "Circumstances change."

Bella let out a harsh laugh. "Sure, Alice."

"If only I could show you. Time will tell, I guess."

"I don't have as much of that as you do."

"You will."

Was she saying what Bella thought she was? If so, how would Alice know? It wasn't like the girl could predict the future, at least not with any surety.

"Let's begin." Mr. Otter brought Bella's attention back to reality.

The band members stood in the parking lot, practicing key phrases and maneuvers that were to be performed on the field within a few minutes.

All too soon, the students were gathered into their positions to march onto the field. They stood in two lines in their "relaxed" pose, holding their instruments down and at their sides.

"Detail, atten-hut." The drum major called while clapping her hands.

"Hut!" The band responded, snapping into position and focusing on the task at hand.

"For'd, harch."

They moved forward synchronously, stepping left first, then right.

The show passed quickly and perfectly. Nothing was out of place, not a note or step, as far as Bella could tell. According to the energy passing through the rest of the band, it appeared the others felt the same. They couldn't lose.

After a quick change into more comfortable clothing, everyone made their way to the concession stand for snacks and drinks. Just as Bella was about to join them, a hand grasped the top of her arm.

"Come over here for a moment, please."

She'd recognize that smooth voice anywhere. Unable to speak, she nodded.

He led them inside one of the small, vacant cinderblock buildings, hoping for some privacy. He was never so happy for Bella's ability to blend in than in that moment. No one had noticed them abscond from the group. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure that was for the best. If he gave in to his baser nature, if he did something to endanger Bella—who was he kidding, taking her away unnoticed was dangerous to Bella no matter how he framed it.

"Why are we here, Edward?" her soft, yet calm voice rang, echoing off the hard walls of the room—if four walls and a roof constituted a room. "What's going on?"

"I…" He searched the stark surroundings, hoping for some help on how to remedy this quickly declining situation. "I wanted to talk to you alone. But now that I've got you here, it seems asinine to have dragged you somewhere so unappealing for such a revelation. Impulsive, really."

"It's fine," Bella whispered. "What did you want to talk about? I mean, why alone?"

"I'm not sure how to phrase this, Bella."

This was it. The time she'd been expecting. The time when Edward would tell her that her feelings were unrequited. He liked her, but not in _that_ way. She prepared herself, knowing her hopes would be dashed by his next few words.

"I understand."

"No, I don't think you do." He placed a finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. "I can't be without you, Bella. It's gone beyond just being able to stay away."

Her brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"How to say this so it makes sense..." Edward breathed deeply, letting it out in a gust.

_So human_, Bella mused silently.

"Before I met you, my life was ordered, predictable, sane—in other words, horribly mundane." He smiled, the sight brightening his angelic face. "Then you entered and at first, mayhem ruled. After the dust settled, the world was a different place. The beauty and wonder I'd never seen before you had been illuminated the world beyond anything I'd ever imagined. Not that I'd imagined _this_. I never thought I wanted this."

Bella turned away, embarrassed. Was he saying what she thought he was, and was he unhappy with the current situation?

"I didn't know anything then, Bella, nothing at all. Not until you."

"I still don't—"

"No, you don't." He sighed. "Bella, you know what I am, but I don't think you understand how that affects everything—what I say, how I react, how I feel."

She shook her head more confused by each of his words.

"For my kind, change comes rarely. Here, let me start at the beginning."

"Okay."

"When I was growing up, the world was very different than it is now. As I became more aware of life beyond the walls of my home, the turmoil that was the outside world took its hold. Though I was a teenage boy, girls didn't hold much of an interest—that isn't to say that I didn't notice them. Of course, I did. They just weren't as important as the war being fought. I wanted nothing more than the glory sold to boys my age."

His eyes were far away, seeing something Bella could never understand. She hadn't grown up like he had. Her experiences were as dissimilar to his as oil to water.

"My family and I became ill before I could enlist. In fact, I'm not sure I would have ever had the nerve to do so. My mother was so against the risk to my life." He smiled indulgently.

"You must have loved her very much."

"I did," he breathed. "Even after most of my human," he said the word so quietly, she barely heard, "memories have disappeared; my love for her is still strong."

"Dissappeared?" She was truly curious. Did he not remember anything before his change? But above that, when was he changed? How old was he? From the way he spoke, and the description of the war, it sounded like it was a long time ago.

"Maybe disappeared isn't the right term. Faded is more appropriate. After the change, everything is different, what was important before moves aside for different… needs. Sometimes what we were before is all but lost. Though conversely, we're exactly the same in some ways, never changing."

"How confusing."

He nodded. "It was when I became aware of what had happened." He turned away. This was not the path he'd wanted their conversation to go down. He hadn't wanted Bella to know this much, afraid his differences would both disgust and intrigue her. He didn't want to lose her, either from her fear or from stealing her humanity.

Edward grabbed a plastic lawn chair from a pile in the corner and placed it on the floor before him. "Sit, please."

Bella gratefully obliged. The concrete floor had begun to make her feet sore, easily digging in through the thin soles of her canvas hi-top sneakers. As she sat, she noticed what was on Edward's feet—dress shoes—even more evidence that Edward did not grow up during the time she had. He was so much more put together than any boy she'd ever known.

"Like I was saying, I never had much interest in girls. Esme, my mother, thought that Carlisle—you know him, of course."

Bella nodded. She'd met him in the Forks' Hospital ER on a few occasions.

"Well, she thought that Carlisle had changed me too early."

"So Carlisle's your…" She didn't know what to call him. Father didn't seem right, since he wasn't biologically related, at least she didn't think he was. Of course, she wasn't fully versed on the genetics of vampire conversions. Maybe Edward was more related to Carlisle than he was to his real father.

"Sire… creator… father, whichever you like. I prefer father. He's been so much more than just the man who _saved_ me."

"So it was Carlisle." Bella didn't know how she felt about that. She was grateful that Edward was still alive, still around for her to meet, to love. At the same time, she knew Edward wasn't happy with what he was, and Carlisle was the reason he was this other… being.

"Yes." He looked to the wall. "But that's not my reason for telling you all this. I've been alone for a long time, Bella. You don't know how long I've waited for you."

Bella's heart raced. For her. He'd said how long he'd waited for_ her_. Not just any girl, but her. Was it possible that he felt for her like she felt for him?

His smile grew as he listened to her body's natural reaction.

"So… you've never wanted anyone else?" Her voice broke on the word wanted, embarrassing her further.

He shook his head. "Not before you."

"That makes two of us."

His eyes widened in shock. "You've never had a boyfriend?"

She shook her head. "No one in Phoenix ever interested me."

Edward uttered a noncommittal sound, confusing Bella more. Did this piece of information bother him?

"So I guess we're more alike than I'd realized."

She laughed, uncertain as to whether he found this a positive thing. "I guess so."

He looked to the front of the building. "Someone's noticed we're missing. They're out looking for us."

"Oh."

"I've got to be quick."

"Quick?"

"Yes, I hate to rush this, but you have to know." He lifted the sides of his mouth nervously. "Isabella Swan, you mean the world to me. You are the only thing that matters."

She gasped, hesitant to declare her love. Would it frighten him away if she declared _her_ true feelings? Even with him having stated his feelings, doubt ate at her.

"It's all right… you don't have to say anything, if you don't want to."

She could hear the dejection in his voice, and it cut her to the core. "No, no. I feel the same. I've never felt anything like this before. It's so different and quicker than I'd expected."

He laughed, more a gust of air than an actual guffaw.

"I've seen it portrayed so many times, through so many eyes… and I never expected it to be like this." He raised his hand to cup her cheek. "They'll be here soon. I'd like to try something before they come."

"Okay," she said, tentatively holding out the second syllable longer than necessary.

"Stay still," he urged quietly. "Don't move."

So slowly it was almost imperceptible to Bella's eyes, he brought his face nearer. When she realized what he was doing, she gasped, bringing her face closer to his.

"Stop," he breathed.

She obeyed, freezing on the spot, though it was hard in the wake of building sensation.

He neared her, bringing his lips toward hers, closer and closer, each moment more agonizing than the last as the distance lessened but never disappeared completely. She could feel his cool breath against her face, smell it as she inhaled, almost tasting it on her tongue.

Suddenly, his lips brushed against hers, bringing the torture to an end. Her heart felt like it would explode from the onslaught of emotion his touch, his kiss brought. How could she have never known this before? How had she lived without this? She knew that going back now would be impossible. She'd never be able to exist without him. He was an indelible part of her now.

Without her approval, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, one of her hands winding into his hair, trying futilely to bring him closer. But he refused to indulge himself in that way. Anything beyond his iron grip on reality would cause him to hurt her, to lose her. He wanted to continue the kiss, to deepen it until he devoured her—figuratively, he reminded himself. Instead, he fought instinct and did the exact opposite, pulling himself from her fragile grasp.

"Bella," he said softly in her ear. "We need to leave now. If we don't, Mr. Otter will find us and you'll get in trouble."

"I don't care," she said while gasping for air. "Let him find us. I want to do that again."

"I know. But I can't risk your grade." At her pout, he quickly changed his line of reasoning. "Besides, there will be plenty of time for that. Will you sit with me on the bus ride home?"

"Yes." She tilted her head away shyly, a blush overtaking her cheeks as a small grin formed on her lips. He wanted to spend time with her. On top of that, he wanted to kiss her again.

"Miss Swan," a deep male voice called. "Mr. Cullen?"

Edward stood, backing away from the chair. "Wait a moment," he whispered, holding up one finger.

The male voice drifted off, fading into the din that was the background of thousands of students and parents.

"Now."

The two stepped out, turning toward the concession stand. When they got there, Edward took Bella to the counter, offering her food.

"See anything you want?"

She blushed profusely. "Yes." Her giggles made the word nearly inaudible. "More than you can believe."

* * *

There it is. It was meant to be sweet, no angst like I usually write. Hope you found it worth your time.

And yes, when I was in band—and I was in band—many of the girls had no problem stripping on the bus. They didn't care who saw them. Maybe they wanted people to see them? I don't know because that was never me. I tried to hide as much as possible.

I played trumpet, so forgive me if I haven't described the pieces/parts to the clarinet properly. I have played one, but only in fun. Yes, I am a geek who finds musical instruments fun.

While doing my research, I found a site I am now IN LOVE with: . There are so many great t-shirts there. I wish I had the money to buy all the ones I want.

Side note: I met my hubby at band camp (please no "this one time at band camp…" references lol), so I thought the "I love a band nerd" shirt was so apropos. He didn't. I guess there's no accounting for taste. Sorry for the tangent.

3~BS


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